Copper Silt

Rough grit scrapes against fingertips as they brush an oxidized copper gear half-buried in the garden silt. This jagged relic, worn smooth by decades of subterranean pressure, sits amidst the damp decay like a discarded thought. Each tooth and fracture tells of a slow crushing under the weight of passing years, where even the hardest metal eventually yields to the soil. In this quiet corner of the earth, one finds that we are not singular sparks, but rather small shapes carved by the heavy accumulation of everything left behind.